


[ V E N G E R ]

by golisopod



Category: Pocket Monsters: Black 2 & White 2 | Pokemon Black 2 & White 2 Versions, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Pocket Monsters: Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon | Pokemon Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon Versions
Genre: Canon Divergent, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golisopod/pseuds/golisopod
Summary: Seems that Colress has an interesting personal life.





	1. Analyst

**Author's Note:**

> Black/white2 into sumo. Just writing for fun, not canon by any means. Intentionally vague.

Oh, those eyes appeared before him once again, clear and objective, the path always so readily laid out. She was unhappy, obviously, twirling long strands of auburn idly, ridiculously sized buns breaching her cap. It never escaped his notice, the downcast shadow from long lashes, light pink fanning each cheek whenever they crossed paths. The first being in an unpleasant sewer and the last, being now.

**Disgusting.**

It was amusing that children could form strange such attachments to adults without realizing **\--** without proper guidance, that is  **\--** just how dangerous such pursuit could be. Truly, in her small little brain, he knew she couldn't be _wishing_ for trauma. Certainly not; there weren't any children in the world that deserved a sick adult handling them, breaking them, destroying them in ways that would follow well into their future, nailed into their psyche, unknowing as to why they suffer all the while attempting to mend it. Colress believed those to be the most abhorrent of all the parasites that _graced_ humanity. No, what she wanted was an _idea_ , a version she built within her mind of the man standing before her. As to be expected of children, their brains haven't even made the last stretch of marginal capacity and maturity.

From his perspective, she was but a mere child. From her own, she was a blossoming adult. The latter almost made Colress chuckle out loud, though he thought better of it, on behalf of face value consideration. His interest in her stemmed from a scientific intrigue toward the bond this child shared between herself and her partners, whereas he apparently lacked it. This shining child of odyssey, continuously thumping him and his squad of metallic wonders no matter how many times within the encounters he perceived to be calculated, he had lost.

Not that he particularly cared for meager terms such as winning and losing, his front wasn't to make his pokemon battle skillfully, but to study the means of their chemistry, their biology, everything that makes a pokemon, a **pokemon**. It just so happened that battling really did draw out the true potential from within the creatures, that much he had seen with his own eyes.

And again, he had lost his final battle against her. Yet she still appeared so unhappy. Though he had a guess as to why that might be, he delivered his final parting with her and her, quite honestly, foul reaction to it. There was no need to meet anymore, after all. He had compiled all of the data he required. The lingering 'feelings' of hers ought to be ingested, swallowed and forgotten. But as he bid his indifferent farewell, a small hand clasped on white sleeve. A hint of irritation flickered in golden eyes, but he remained positive in posture and attitude.

"Yes?" A stiff smile framed his mouth.

"Don't go."

The words were small, barely an audible whisper. It appeared that this wasn't going as well as he had hoped, though, children were usually quite unpredictable. The smile deepened as his displeasure rose. He had gotten what he came for.

"I'm afraid I must. Whatever _silly_ idea you've ingrained into your mind in regards to our past relations, relinquish it," he said as he gently removed her grasp on his coat.

A puffy-haired boy had a heartfelt love toward this little one, a childhood friend, whom she may cry to over her foolish ideas that had zero chance of fruition. No seeds of hope were planted in her head, not any action of his insinuated that he had the slightest interest in children. It was almost offensive, gag-worthy, at most. None of that was his concern any further, he decided, as he gestured a final wave **adieu** , turning his back. Her last words to him sent daggers into the memory of his leaving form.

"You're so cruel."

 "Oh, am I?"

A hiccup caught the lump. What a quick reaction. It was strange, to her, that this fellow she met with frequently and battled for such a long time, despite being.. **a villain** , ended up turning around and helping her in the great downfall of Plasma. It wasn't a lie that Mei thought quite highly of Colress because of it. She believed he had changed, had turned around, in some way, was even a friend to her, a person she could _trust_. It wasn't misplaced, just too easily given. Too quick to believe any sort of theory that popped into her mind with or without evidence, without attempting to uncover the truth.

And the truth was, that Colress was not a man that ought to be trusted, period.

 

* * *

 

A gentle breeze rose a familiar strip of blue lock, causing it to bounce unrealistically. The sun overhead was blistering, a usual, in the new region he resided. While others changed, Colress remained the same.

It was strange to idly recall details from so long forgotten, he thought, his fingers covered by obscenely large gloves as he tapped away at the scanner lodged uncomfortably on his forearm sleeve, mostly decalibrating it from the radius around his position. Collecting data on fresh pokemon, allowed to roam free-range under the guise of corporate activity. It might as well had been The Best gig he could've landed, far better than the silly little games he played with Plasma out in Unova some several years ago. Ah, so that's what triggered the memory. And whom he had to thank, was the woman in charge of it all.

What a _**vixen**_. Simultaneously an angel and the devil.

A little under a decade between their respective births, but that largely suited his preference. Colress hadn't any room in his life for tangible partners that required **things** from him. His emotions, while readily eager to use them to gain appropriate reactions or to lure others into doing his biddings, were almost always unavailable otherwise. They were tools to navigate the world, nothing more. The only love he bore couldn't belong to anything other than science, the true explanations for the world around them, down to every written number. What could everything else possibly be useful for? What else was there, but _understanding?_

The little pang whenever she crossed his vision told him otherwise, with or without her dearly beloved husband present.

He was appointed as head of the interdimensional exploration board after the project picked up, which came as a surprise initially; his personality was so vibrant for someone in this line of work. Yet, the degrees under his belt proved him more than worthy for the position. It wasn't any wonder that Lusamine loved him **\--** and showered him with it **\--** very much to the chagrin of others catching their gushy nonsense. Their study involved the modern manifestation of port holes, rips in the fabric of our own reality and laid a pathway from ours to the one(s?) that co-exist on the same planes. Before, only a small handful of pokemon were hypothesized as being able to travel through, or had come from, other dimensions. And here, in this man-made paradise, man himself was able to harness it all his own. Absolutely amazing, what a high place in the world could grant your fingertips.

The details, however, were an unknown to Colress, as his primary function had much, much less grandeur. Another environmental scientist among the ranks (so that's how he thought of himself). Such a thing as recognition hadn't any value to him, either way, as a man who found scarcity quite valuable. Having the freedom to do as he pleased in his own personal line of solitary work, which was the study of pokemon and man, and the bonds between them and the ties between them and their environments, how it could be measured, tested and described. But, how **did** Colress land such a comfy position, for a man in his mere early thirties?

Their lines of vision connected, gold met emerald, a pleasant smile drawing up on an all too flawless face as she passed by. It was like time billowed in her wake, long, angular locks bouncing with her steps, concise eyes straight onward, piercing anything and everything they laid upon. Oh, she certainly got what she paid for, now didn't she? All that he possessed now, was all because of her.

"President Lusamine." He offered a gentle smile of his own, as she continued about her business, he assumed.

While she may had been married, it didn't deter the bizarre magnetism she presented and stirred within him. Of course she _would_ be the only woman he was interested in. Elegant, highly intelligent, interest in all things she already hadn't known. She yearned to _learn_ and properly used her position of power and wealth to bring it all in at her very own leisure. All the while, balancing a family and her career. Clearly, he and her were two sides of a coin, birds of a feather, _tied by fate, **meant to be**_. But he knew such silly things to be untrue, not one person in this world was made for anyone, but themselves. Yet, he dared to fancy it, and dangerously wandered closer and closer to the dancing flames. 

Women, Colress previously thought, were quite overruled by petty emotions, distressed by their own internal enemies of just thought, incredibly overbearing. And even as he acknowledged it to be baseless misogyny, it didn't stop him from judging and seeing women as inferior. It instead taught him that private thoughts toward others merely oughtn't be announced and to be distant from them if they were.. unfavorable.

Lusamine, on the other hand, he respected without reservation, genuinely enjoyed her company when it was offered, and generally, just her pleasantries of existence. Not only incredible to look at, but with a mind to match. A real prize for any that desired her affections and were gifted with them. Her husband followed shortly behind when she passed, carrying what appeared to be important documents, but his gaze caught golden ones, a broad grin stretching a relatively handsome face.

"Colress, how're ya buddy? Enjoyin' the nice weather, eh? Jacket lookin' real stuffy on ya, air it out once inna while, yeah? Haw! Oh, jeez, I'm inna hurry, wouldn't find ma head if it wasn't screwed on! Catch ya later though!" Mohn hurried along behind his wife, earning a modest smile from Colress. So goofy, yet so intelligent. It wasn't any wonder that Lusamine married the fellow, he was, all around, a genuinely good human being. If Lusamine hadn't wrangled him first, or he hadn't wrangle her, Colress would've been fine with snatching either one of them -- from each other. What a jealous guy.

Oh, a _private_ matter? he thought, watching as they passed through the gardens toward their manor, an apparent little tiff going on between them. Those were almost always settled immediately, Lusamine unbending and Mohn, easily bent. It happened more and more, lately. Narrowing his eyes, Colress turned on his heels and retreated back into the main building of Aether Paradise.

It was then, that a feeling settled deeply in the pit of his belly. An unknown feeling, unassessed. The winds were given a subtle change as a series of unfortunate events began to break loose.


	2. Slicer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destroy and then, rebuild.

Everything was at a stand still, back then. A position in time that seemed unmoved. A breath away, the unknown lurked. Sometimes, he thought, perhaps it wasn't responsible of man to attempt to harness powers beyond mortal control. A notion of masterful skill and understanding came naturally to born creatures, a fickle ability merely at the convenience of easy existence. And man barely scratched the at the surface.

It was disastrous. 

Deafening alarms, red light blending against cold white, footsteps echoing, panic escalating before proper emergency guideline. Colress wasn't there to witness the events that unfolded, only thereafter while passing the open door, the echo of alarms bouncing off of every bald face that enclosed them on the lower floors. Arbitrary rules were always meant to be broken. The president wouldn't worry about stupid apprehensive actions.

Upon her knees and darkness laid before a blonde silhouette, sparks and dim yellow orbs of annihilated machines lingered, Colress paused. A hunter hidden among the brush and a wounded doe, leg mangled and ensnared by thick iron teeth chopped into gentle flesh. Wrong step. The smell of blood and the narrowing of keen eyes as the body jolted, panic, escape. The sound of the alarm felt far away, muted noise drowned as time stopped.

And her cries then fell upon deaf ears.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a wonder, the damage one error could cause. Many a time, it brings some distortion but can be rewritten anew. Replace the period with a comma, replace the one with a zero. Every bit and piece of hard work could become unglued for mostly any conceivable reason. But the most common? Human error.

The grief of losing one that was so close to you, used to their every day presence and it being snatched right from the air, the only existence of them fresh until nodes weaken with time, is devastating. The strongest of them all always have an achilles heel and hers were sliced in a neat, straight line. The self-destruction that followed didn't come as a surprise to anyone. The president loved Mohn more than any person she could've ever loved. The pieces of Mohn that stared right in her face felt like loaded pistols. His image haunted her wherever she went and there, mistreatment began.

Colress always watched her. Watched being a vaguely unclear term, he'd say he was monitoring. Observing.

A part of him longed to console Lusamine. Her skin harrowed, her already slim frame waned. A ghostly doll made of wax, a shell of her former self. It was easy to understand why her person reacted to obvious trauma, yet he felt that he couldn't truly relate to her plight. Their world wasn't even a microscopic speck within the true observable universe. Pokemon already obtained abilities to navigate others; there were infinite amounts of pokemon species, many more that human beings wouldn't ever discover after even an infinite amount of time. Every last thing, down to the detail, was insignificant. Everything was impermanent, how couldn't they see that? Arbitrary attachments held no definite meaning.

And yet, his unacknowledged and absurd attachment to her existence, pestered him daily and influenced conscious action. For years.

It was several months before Lusamine returned to her routine and career, months of her throwing herself around, plaguing her children with such awful memories that one completely detach from her. But she was still hopelessly lost, only a vague blur to her once intense gaze. Colress took advantage of it, wouldn't even deny it in his private thoughts. He went into action.

"Ma'am," he said politely on approach. She sat alone in an unusual place, down in the unused labs, where they stored faulty and generally unneeded equipment. She didn't appear happy with his presence, a treatment he grew accustomed to. The slight wetness to her bottom lashes made it apparent that she had been crying. Nothing unusual otherwise. Hiding alone to lick wounds.

"Colress," Lusamine finally acknowledged tiredly. "..Good work lately."

It was a boring response, the duty of management over an employee. Of course, despite the completely tragedy that passed, he wouldn't lack on any of his work. It wasn't his tragedy to endure. The professional distance is what kept him at bay and she certainly utilized it, whether consciously or not. Her cracked armor, she assured, was impenetrable. What she meant was, 'keep this short, I don't want to be bothered'. 

"Thank you, madam President," he replied with a friendly smile. "I've noticed you've begun to come back around. It's a welcomed sight."

A sigh from her lips, their gazes never crossing. Her realm of vision was clouded, withdrawn tightly into her own private world where only she and her beloved existed. A thought struck him then, as he watched quietly, her wondering what agenda he could possibly have and him, formulating the agenda then and there. Drumming his fingertips against his pant leg, he casually reached out and slipped his poisons right beneath the crevices of her protective shell.

"If I may be direct," he boldly began with her gaze shifting over, a slight dip in tone as the last word left his throat, "Would it be preposterous of me to.. offer a suggestion?"

Now her attention was deviated to him, though she appeared both angry and incredulous. But he stood there patiently while she dissected her thoughts, the light flowing in from behind him at the door gave way to a long shadow looming behind the president. Her lids narrowed her eyes with her judgement after a long pause.

" **What is it?** "

With that three word exchange was how everything changed between them. Half of the words, she did not hear. Each passing syllable that fell from Colress' lips dripped like a seething chaotic venom, the tendrils of shadowed hands meticulously wrapping around her airways. Emerald eyes widened with terror, hope, frustration and ambition, the grey skin shedding away from the newfound golden light beneath. Yet the nails of demons dragged over her bones as her pupils dilate. No longer was he stagnant.

"...Allow me to explain..."

 

"...hand it over to..."

 

"...and..."

 

"... **I can help you.** "


	3. Universally speaking, none of this even matters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I forgot what sort of fucked up story I was intending for, but I'ma commit and finish it.

Comfort.

In times of need, bonds between one another tend to keep individuals from falling head-first into an all-consuming pit of despair. Without a bond to remain grounded, one may only spiral downward into the catastrophic internal abyss. It's amusing, he thought, how the metaphors usually always pertained to falling, which would lead one to assume that there's a destination being headed toward. One could, at the least, only **hope** there was. But the plain and simple truth was that, there wasn't. Only endless perpetual falling, a stomach seized in constant nausea, overflowing bile and just knowing that there will never be any sort of relief. Nothing lasts forever, voices surrounding always bother to say. And they're right, needless to say. What has a beginning must end. For some, it ends with a well-placed bullet.

Another day, another regular, uneventful day.

Again, a blonde goddess foolishly wanders in and out of another particularly blonde scientist's imagination. To the empty white plaster all encompassing, the vibe of sterility and stuffy monotonous visuals shadowed by a single dim-lit desk lamp, does Colress actually give precious attention to. It makes a bit of blue, bizarrely buoyant locks bounce ever so slightly. Despite the groundhog day hell of meager tasks and paperwork, he appeared pleased, alone in his brisk pristine prison cell. This sort of busy work ought to be given to the branch chief, in his own opinion. It just so happened that he didn't mind doing stupid bullshit tasks in order to get what he desired.

Disturbing the peace, as he'd say, a hollow knock echoed, a woman's voice announcing her routinely expected presence. 

"It's Wicke! Are you available?" came the rather delighted sounding assistant branch chief.

...That's different, he thought.

Narrowed eyes met with the locked door, the fellow pondering whether or not to pretend to be nonexistent, for just the moment. Though she was assistant to Faba, the actual branch chief, Wicke was unfortunately swept aside by the insufferable string bean, her asset to the foundation pushed into a low secretary type of role. It seemed she was always quite pleasant about it regardless, though. Not once did she turn out attitude over being, well... blatantly mistreated, quite literally all smiles in retrospect. It made Colress rather wary, if she could micromanage her emotions for her career in such a way. Irritating if so, since Colress himself manages his own demeanor similarly, which from his perspective, could make Wicke out to be potentially dangerous. Though, perhaps that would be giving her _too_ much credit.

**Don't.**

"Hm."

Approaching the entryway, a series of numeric code was quickly entered, a small beep signalling approval from its outer panel as it granted her entry. With the security removed between them, the bubbly woman peered up to meet the scientists' amiable smile with his greet and welcome. Hopefully, it would only be a quick drop off with undoubtedly more garbage to wade through.

"Thank you!" she said with a mirrored smile as she stepped around his figure despite it being centered to prevent her entry, it seemed she was going to make herself a guest anyway. Knowing it couldn't be seen from her angle, the smile faltered, lips pressed together in annoyance. This meant there was something to be discussed, most likely behind a closed door. With an inhale, Colress turned to face Wicke with the friendly expression everyone was accustomed to seeing when interacting with him. She had seated herself in one of the empty chairs, hands folded in her lap neatly, a beautiful smile as she patiently waited without words and an unwavering gaze.

Something about it made the hair rise on the back of his neck as the silence continued between them briefly.

"Close the door, please."

Oh.

And so it was shut.

 _If we are to play this game_ , he thought, _I won't be the one to break_.

The atmosphere that felt thick and stuffy, felt even more so with another body occupying space. The way the single source of light played shadows on Wicke's slightly round face in the shape of pastel glasses distorted her features into something eerily ominous. Yet just so serene. Nothing about Wicke screamed "danger", not even the way a shadow could play across her visage. Colress, on the other hand, keeping the cool, usual nothing-out-the-ordinary facade, appeared much more sinister in comparison. A dark aura cannot always be hid.

"And to what, do I owe this pleasurable visit?" he said as he placed his hands together behind his back, awaiting. Motionless, then after, only a sharp met gaze.

The woman whom he'd expected to change in demeanor immediately once complete privacy was assured, did not do so. In fact, she became a bit more lax in posture, but his guard was not unhindered by it. It could be a deliberate ploy. Leaned back against the back of the chair, one shapely leg of hers crossed over the other, still no words crossed. Was she going over options, choice of words, escape routes if perhaps something violent were to occur over the potential information, what could it be? The most plausible outcomes were being determined in their silence that felt like a goddamn eternity. Luckily, his patience was infinite.

 

 

**_"It was you, wasn't it?"_ **

 

 

 

"Oh, well, that's rather vague!" came his immediate response with a warm chuckle, a smile broadening with such an incredulous expression. "Is there something bothering you, my dear? What brings you here with such words?"

Only then does the scientist move across the room toward another chair, usually the one he occupies, pushing the wheeled object over toward Wicke. Comfortably sitting himself with just enough space between the two, he then faced her with utmost sincerity. "So, what's going on?"

It appeared that the response given wasn't what Wicke had expected, and it showed visibly on her face, his eyes never wavering from hers, not once, the entire time. Whatever she had in mind that she blamed him for, doubt was bubbling over as the silence went on. Fumbling with the hem of the mellow white uniform, a sigh exhaled through her nose.

"Well... It seems..." she began, trailing off shortly after. Colress remained attentive, waiting patiently for her to gather what she needed to say. "The President, she... is... so different, lately."

Oh.

"How so? Has she been... getting worse?" he replied with concern, observing as Wicke's gaze flickering from him to her lap, still fumbling around, a nervous habit perhaps.

"Not worse? It's just as if, she's turned right around, somehow. The poor thing was so stricken with grief over what happened, and now... It's as if it never even happened. I thought maybe it had something to do with you. Your name comes up a lot lately, with her..." Wicke's words trailed off again, but she was unable to lift her eyes from looking at anything else but the other person in the room with her.

**She's lying.**

"To be quite honest, the President has, well, confided in me. Only a time or two. Perhaps some of my words stuck with her in her time of need," he replied, fingers interlocking themselves loosely.

"She's begun putting her personal funds...

Opening research for the ultra worm holes...

If she continues on like this, it'll harm..."

Oh.

The words were falling upon deaf ears, momentarily. Plump lips were moving, but the sound muted, nothing but white static. Constant. Though, what would suspect actually lead to? The President is merely being a bit careless, that's all. Wicke and the President are rather close, are they not? She _is_ still in a relatively sustained state of distress.

"...and I truly believe that you were the one that suggested it to her. Were you?"

What would you do, if it were?

"Wicke, the last thing I desire is for our President to destroy herself in a foolish attempt to chase a pipe dream. You understand as well as I do that what.. happened was a fluke. An error that costed the life of someone dear to all of us. She is still grieving. Give her time. That is all we can do."

And she nodded in agreement, with an apology for the abrupt condemnation and a wrongly pointed finger.

"Well, I'm sorry for being a bother. I suppose I'll return to my work now, I've taken a long enough break!" she mentioned with a lighthearted laugh, lifting from the seat to make way for her exit. Colress rose as well.

"You're never a bother, Wicke. If you ever need anything, please, don't hesitate."

Once their interaction was deemed officially ended with pleasantries and goodbyes exchanged, door closed, locked, the scientist went to resume the tasks he was assigned before interruption. Basking in the solitude, a small sigh of relief was allowed release. Though he really wanted to return to the mindless drone work, his mind had become unsettled and there was nothing to accost distraction from it.

Lusamine.

There wasn't any escape from her. 

No matter where he turned,

it was only her,

in every word,

every thought,

nothing else.

It was the absolute **best.** What was once untouchable, was reachable. The most lovely of eyes no longer looked to his person as but a humble employee. Everything all around him was surrounded with nothing but **her**. Ecstasy felt like electricity firing up every portion of his fucking veins! The always polite, friendly Colress wanted to rip everything to shreds and break any tangible object in sight, wreck the entirety of his own private domain! But in the scheme of anything and everything that is, could, and will be connected, none of it matters.

The moment of the rush passed as quickly as it came, a fleeting and foreign feeling that was so unknown. Logically, he knew what was happening. Every bit and piece of it, yet did nothing to prevent it from happening. Thousands of times he could analyse it in handfuls of ways. But the only thing he never wanted to accept is that he himself is not a machine. It can only ever be attributable to human error. It has always been human error.  And like any human being, the most underlying subconscious fear is that his own flaws will become exposed.

"It's nothing dangerous."

**I lied.**

 

 


	4. Broke a promise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Wow, being a scapegoat of blame for another person's self-proclaimed problems certainly wasn't any fun.

A lofty career set and stone with enough pay to make a poor man cry, if only he weren't so foolish enough to deviate from a life of solitude, to only look after "numero uno". If only Colress had only kept thinking of himself first. It was a hyperbole intrusion on his entire personality. He lived to serve only himself, but then decidedly wanted to loan out his superior intellect (oh, yeah, he _does_ think that) to an ever-growing infatuation with the person who signs his paychecks? Even her name, cursively looped in the most elegant way you could imagine, even that, he thought was incredible. Her penmanship. Her fucking penmanship!

Being human was an absolute pain.

On one hand, Colress truly thought he was going absolutely insane. Truly. He wasn't. It was merely the feelings stirred between himself and chemicals released in his homosapien brain when he laid eyes on the only potential mate he ever considered in his entire life. Right, it was only that. Yet, it felt like so much more! Emotions were supposed to be beneath his person, just tools to pressure others into doing whatever he wanted. Foolish! Forcibly succumbing to his own human needs long ignored in favor of being like a machine, like the partners he so chose rested in red and white capsules, made of steel, cold. Well, the whole persona was becoming more and more trampled on. All because he fell in love, or some dumb bullshit like that. Not just the little flings with others who wanted _his_ touch, no, the one his hands yearned to grasp. So much resistance in-between. 

Another scared person, running away from themselves. Colress, a coward, running away, using reality as his own personal escapism.

And he knew this. The whole scheme, the whole shebang, the entire facade, the fakery, all by his own design, like some sort of fucked up god. No wonder he despised Ghetsis; they were two sides of the same fucking coin. Who could ignore the raging erection of power that comes with controlling every aspect of every single thing? If everything is well-calculated, and if everything goes according to those calculations, then there is nothing to fear. The loss on control was leading into a dark spiral of fear, oh yes, creeping through the pit of his stomach and unrelenting.

There, he placed his own personal blame, upon the one who inspired it all. Because nothing could ever be his fault.

 

* * *

 

 

Another day. Until it's not.

The remains of the evening came crashing downward with a closed fist jarring an unsuspecting scientist, square hit to the jaw. His first thought was that such a frail looking person could withhold such a packed punch. What a surprise. Sometimes it just feels better to give in.

Fury in those emerald eyes could drop the moon from the sky and destroy the entire world.

It wasn't enough to make him fall to the ground, though he was taken aback and briefly stunned. It was a bit of routine nowadays; meet up somewhere inconspicuous in the "paradise" and he'd relay all the information the President wanted to know. Sometimes down in the labs, occasionally his own little office, a far off point to stare at Ula'ula island from the white borders. Today, Colress had been invited to the President's personal quarters, in her home, which also resided on Aether Paradise. It was bizarre, but he wasn't opposed.

Gloved fingers soaked blood when wiped across where his lip busted against teeth from her skeletal knuckles. "That's mean," he remarked dully.

"How dare you!" she spat, that deceivingly un-fragile body of hers coiling back like the serpent queen she was, ready to strike once more. "You readily told me that this was guaranteed to work, yet you constantly snatch hope from me with hypocritical words! You..."

Checked out. Golden eyes glazed over and words pouring from her lips felt like velvet static.

Watching her anger rise to the top, those thin blonde brows knit, tightened with rage, made him want to kiss her. Or really, anything to shut her up. Of course it was guaranteed to work, Colress knew exactly what to do. Her overreactions to it all is what started the word games. It seemed to him that Lusamine had forgotten just how long he'd been in his field of expertise. All the money she'd been paying him fully funded his own personal projects, which lined quite nicely with what Mohn was accomplishing as well. If she thought he wouldn't take a peep into documents his eyes weren't supposed to see, well, she'd be the fool this time. 

He just enjoyed toying with her decayed state of mind.

"Madam President," he interjected on her rant, most likely fueling the internal fire more but she actually quieted, to his surprise. "...You've assaulted your employee, I hope you--"

For a woman of her stature, her right hook was killer, crashing against his nose and more blood decorating linoleum. Colliding with the floor, ruined gloves brushed away the gushing liquid from the cavity, permanently stained most likely. His glasses managed to remain unscathed of her fury, though laid upside down a few feet away.  Away from him she stomped, saying something about getting blood on her floor, how he was a lying snake, to which he giggled. Him, the snake, so rich from the true serpent herself.

She spun back on him so fast he couldn't even recoil, an open palm slapped so hard across his face it almost gave him whiplash. More of his blood, all over himself, all over everything. Who could've ever known the President could be so incredibly violent? He'd bet on anything that she wanted to tear his chest open and feed on the blood beating in his very heart and spit it back into his face. Would he welcome it?

"You were such a mistake, I never should've allowed M..." she paused, green eyes becoming wounded with a bit lip, turning away once again. Still, she clung to her long-gone husband's visions, the voice and memories of her own mind, the only remnants she had left of him. And Colress, being the only connection to his intensive work, the only route to salvation, to a potential rescue. And he was hellbent on making the fulfillment of his only use to her as difficult as possible.

Oh, was she crying again? Was that all it took?

As soon as he attempted to move, long angular blonde locks were surrounding him, being jerked around like her puppet, fists balled up into the coat collar fabric and she's screaming words, tears falling in all directions over hollowed cheeks and he's staring at her without any sort of expression at all. _I just want you to want me_ , he thought. _Why won't you think of me?_

Maybe he was actually insane after all.

Even without doing anything, she was somehow on his lap and crying on him. She needed him, whether she liked it or not. All he'd said to her was that there wasn't a guarantee to Mohn's survival and the chances of finding him alive where slim to none. The technical aspects were flawless. Though, he was well aware blatantly stating it would undoubtedly hurt her, he just didn't care. The price to pay for it was becoming Lusamine's punching bag. Shuffling his arms about her body loosely and she crumpled.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't.

"You're worthless."

The scientist rose his brows to her response, how genuine his mild shock was slightly appalled him moreso. Her body on his body, he couldn't even enjoy it, every ounce of willpower went to keep his lower extremities from reacting to it whatsoever. He was quite sure she'd choke him til he was unconscious, but he kinda liked the idea. Such a mean mouth from such a gorgeous woman. Anything he could say or do then would just be inappropriate, so he opted to do nothing and enjoy radiating pain in his face. What was he supposed to say? Walked into the door, like a beaten spouse? Marital abuse goes both ways, y'know.

Finally, after an eternity of time of the President crying like a lost lamb, removed herself from his person silently and left without a word. And so, retrieving his specs, back on the bridge of a soon to be swollen nose, he followed after her. It seemed she knew, but perhaps the fight in her died down for the night. Where she always disappeared to when she was upset, the gardens she and Mohn spent the most time in. Colress invited himself along.

"You aren't allowed here," she hissed when they arrived at the entrance, full of flora and lush greenery. A perfectly kempt sanction for a broken angel to cry alone. If there was something they may have had in common, it was the quality of avoiding taking responsibility for anything.

"Fair enough."

And then he departed for his own personal space in favor of watching her break down more. Many a time did he believe he deserved a well-meant punch to the face, but perhaps that time, it wasn't necessary. Then again, if it wasn't for that, for something else then. Was it a crime to love? She grabbed his sleeve to get his attention quite a ways away from the entrance, panting, oh, fast walked over here, now did we? Always with the sleeve.

"Are you that lonely?" he questioned before she could explain whatever reason she had for trying to make him stay, but the hurt expression on her face was the last thing he expected. Everything about her had that yearning crawling up his spine, digging through the ribs, burrowing into the silly beating organ nested there. The issue Colress saw arising dangerously was that himself and the President were both extremely manipulative people, the difference being that he was well aware of his manipulation, but was she? 

It almost made him want her more. Two fucked up individuals. Everyone knew she manipulated Mohn all the time in order to get her way, Mohn being... too Mohn to stand up against it. But it couldn't work against Colress. The president wants comfort. Colress is the only other person she's been around extensively for long periods of time because he had a purpose, an asset to assist her. All it took was a little bit of hope implanted into her mind and she was clung onto him like the black widow she was.

Leave now or exploit her.

_I want to drown in her._

Grabbing her hand, he pulled it free of his attire with a faint smile bloodied by the injuries she caused, no words exchanged as he turned, choosing to leave her behind, wanting his company. Denied. _How does it feel when you cannot get what you want?_ he thought, the corner of his mouth twitching into some kind of ugly proud simper. This victory felt so empty, basking in another's pain. In his mind, she deserved to suffer by herself for a while, the tongue slipping out to lap up the drying blood and dead skin cells.

 

 

 

 

 

" _Please, don't go._ "

 

 

 

 

White static.

What an evil woman.


	5. Destitute of pudency.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep regret. 
> 
> NSFW warning. Yes, worse than the last.

So much hatred.

So much hatred, befallen from hurtful eyes.

There just wasn't any other way. The wrath of a blonde archangel, descending upon a faithless heathen, pouring thousands of fingers over each crevice. Oh, but those hands wouldn't be able to find a thing and they so desperately searched. Peeling back the bloody band-aid upon her very own heart instead. Stings. Hands roam over another body, another inhabitant, something else to distract entirely. Angelic hands, overturning every fold, wondering, where was the soul they could breach any aperture and guide to condemnation. Self-satisfaction.

Her wanton hands would never find a soul here. Not within steel confines, welded and bound together. No such hands, no matter how exquisite those hands should be, only could their nails break under the struggle of clawing against reinforced borders. Only **one** a pitiful, fallen angel could never grasp. Nothing bothered her more than something being beyond her reach, out of her bounds, unable to accept that reality.

These shells of human beings were destined to absolute insanity. It's what rose the mesmerism between the two. The illusion of it, that is. Too wrapped in their own disguises to realize that it was all merely a struggle for power over another; as it always was, that lead to humanity's never-ending downfalls and shortcomings. 

What was she honestly trying to hold on to?

 

* * *

 

 

"...s."

"...lress."

" **Colress**."

Too bright lights were all _too blinding, **fuck**_. Barely able to open his eyes and register anything happening in that moment, it was too late. Forcibly, the scientist was removed from where he previously laid at rest, tumbling in disorientation and suddenly crashing against cold, hard floor. It was cold all over, actually. A disgusted 'hmph' came from the other side of pristine white bed comforters. The radiation of pain followed him as he rose from the floor, cognizant of bruising clearly formed in certain areas where he was battered, he realized his attire was missing. Completely.

Oh.

Colress certainly wasn't the peak of physical fitness, mostly an average-sized man. Pale and partially lanky, though slightly taller than others, nothing to be impressed or dismissive with. Unlike the President, whom already adorned a dark wine velvet robe covering her own manufactured, clean-cut, slender, flawless figure. Wow, what a color. It didn't change the fact that he got the chance to defile it. And did. He got to watch her writhe. And she did. The thought consumed everything else, yet ultimately meant nothing. His face was throbbing. How could she fuck someone she beat the fuck out of? What a demon.

Silently, the nude scientist uncharacteristically trudged around the woman's personal domain, haggardly searching for his items to appease her over-apparent displeased gaze that watched his every movement. They weren't so dissatisfied mere hours earlier, though. Shuffling into finally found dark trousers, Lusamine clicked her tongue in annoyance. Really?

"Madam President, please."

Perhaps it was all a bit much for Colress to handle. Something he was ready to disagree with, but with Lusamine being so much more imperious than usual felt rather...vexatious. Exhaling through her nose, the woman began gathering all of her blankets from the bed, bundling them among each other to make for easier carry. Her locks, usually down and fanned out as far as possible and styled, was more relaxed and heaved into a disheveled bun atop her skull, bangs falling here and there. It looked quite elegant, truthfully. For a shedevil, she certainly did appear to be as a corporal angel.  


"Just find your clothes. And then get out. I don't want to see you here when I return," she said coldly without even looking in his general direction, back faced and hauling the load of fabrics out the entrance to her bedroom. 

It appeared she was actually going to allow him to reside by himself inside of her domain. What a surprise, for one so intent on antagonizing him. It wasn't as if he couldn't find his way out, either way. What would they have to discuss? What transpired was only that. Nothing more, nothing less.

But then it kept happening.

Colress went about his business as usual the day after, though in secondary attire which only consisted of reverse colors, everything was still confined to a strict time-based schedule in order to ensure everything would be done. The second time, he was visiting the hospital wing on a break to treat his obvious injuries. Black eye, fractured nose, busted lip, bruises lining these areas. Even the nurses wondered if he traveled out to the Alolan islands recently, asked if perhaps some thugs cornered and jumped him. It was a better story than he coined, so he went along with it. Prescribed pain killers (unfortunately non-narcotic) and a pack of bandages he felt were needless, on his way he went, only to find the President waiting outside of the wing. 

Inwardly confounded, he managed to keep a relatively unfazed expression. But he really had no idea what she was showing up for, not so soon anyways. The allotted time expectancy was beyond the span of a few days, weeks, even. Yet she was there, readily available to use him once more.

"Madam," he greeted politely with a kind smile, his gaze peering down for a fleeting moment, eyeing those bruising knuckles. She looked annoyed by it.

" **Did you tell them?** "

What a loaded question, her figurative daggers were out swift and ready to slit his throat if he dared say anything other than no. But Colress wasn't afraid. He saw the worst of what she had to offer and decided that it was easily tractable. _Go on, slit me open._ The smile deepened as did her indignation at the sheer notion.

" **So what if I had?** "

At this point, Colress had the gas-can in hand and was _merrily_ emptying the contents onto a violent blaze of fury. Was he sick in the head? Whom in their right mind would willingly drink the gasoline and collide with the licking flames? Only for her, he could endure, he thought. It didn't matter about love, courtship, tact, none of it. He knew his place in her eyes and he wanted to step out of line. And so he did. It was insanity.

Her hands were at his throat immediately, shockingly enough to him, even if he managed to stay grounded, her slender frame dug into him. _Really, here?!_

"President...the...cameras..." he choked out, that deathgrip around his neck debilitating, all strength that this woman could muster, she really, really wanted to snap his fucking neck in half. But she relented, backing off his person as quick as she'd invaded his space, a hysterical and murderous stare glued to his face and he stared right back. A feral beast wanting to rip into his insides and throw his entrails around like confetti at her pretty little murder party. It seemed she was apart of an elite, could that mean that maybe his death might actually be imminent? Damn, maybe it was worth it.  


It wasn't.

"Come with me," she seethed turning on her heel sharply, retreating to... the... bathroom. Really.

A woman had never stupefied him this much in his entire life. The only thing that kept him trailing after her was the fact that he knew there was a part she wanted him to play and he wouldn't play it and it pissed her off. And it was just too much fun. Not only was he probably borderline obsessed with her long before her touch was blessed (really?) upon him, but to be in such a reality where she granted him entry to her very own lips was unlike anything else. Well, how else could one react to being allow to desecrate an idol built within ones mind? Does humanity not pillage and dishonor their own god, whom they believe not in, yet created all surrounding them? A pokemon more powerful than anything imaginable by man himself? Foolish.

And then she shoved him down into a stall hard, shut and locked to prevent his escape, a collision of bodies ensued shortly after. Why? Colress, whom thought he knew the answer or could find the answer to much of anything if he so wished, could not figure her out. Taunt her, she ravages, is that how this all worked? Why? In the moment, though, there wasn't a way to say no.

And then he understood.

This was her way to control an otherwise uncontrollable being. Did she know that he fancied her, long before the mess they became tangled in? What an awful feeling. Oh, feelings. Things he longed to just ignore, to turn off that little portion of the brain that regulated it, rendering them useless for good. Such silly things got him into such a predicament.

What a dark, dark emptiness.

When she was finished with him that time, something felt deeply unsettled within. Marks left upon him, more to explain if others eyes saw, bruises and slight blood in the form of her perfect canines. Lusamine was the queen of the damned, leaving her sex puppet to tend to whatever business he had before then, without a word. And so he cleaned himself up of her essence and departed to his personal quarters to find a befitting punishment for himself. Maybe she had a thing for blondes. That wasn't the last time.

Never once had Colress been used in such a way before then. Especially not by one he admired, respected (...to a slightly lower degree now), idolized as the perfect prize. The prize wasn't so sweet, after all. Then again, he was always guarded, staying not one step ahead, but nine steps. Only this time, he strayed from his own self-imposed discipline to his own licentious desires to drink from Lusamine's extravagant cup of nectar. Sometimes, when he isolated himself to his work and went out of his way to stay unbothered by even her, the scientist would allow his mind to ponder in the safety of his confines. Did Lusamine ever treat her husband, Mohn, in such a way? Did she ever mistreat her children, in her violent reign of tyranny then after? What was causing her to change in such a vicious way?

Red and white, the collision of the two, signalling emergency, panic. He remembered, then.

Where Mohn had disappeared, where the failure to stabilize the tear into ultra space they so injudiciously overlooked. A misreading lead to a huge fluctuation of energy from an unknown source, causing the hole to expand briefly in size and power, the only one to be near it as it happened, was Mohn in a protective suit, taking data notes, Lusamine on the other side of the glass watching herself with busied employees. 

And suddenly, he was gone, as was all the equipment inside, the glass shattered inward busting against the wall behind the initial hole. Machinery pauperized, sparks dangerously flickering into hazardous threats of fire, frightened employees rushing about and screaming, scientists, scattering. Lusamine, in the center of it all, completely floored. Panic, erratic footsteps echoing, Colress in another lab nearby that day, perplexed by the sound of an explosion and alarms blaring, automated emergency distress guidelines playing on the overhead intercoms.

He knew, as soon as he exited to the hallway and saw smoke billowing out from the room where the President and her husband both were.

Standing in the doorway, there Lusamine sat alone, buckled and shriveled into the linoleum, clutching onto what appeared to be a dirtied lab coat. Her large locks covered her heaving back, her silhouette shuttering as utterly distressed sobs escalated from her being as alarms rang in symphony of a creature whose heart died there in her very hands. 

Colress stood discomposed at the encounter, completely unnerved by a sight he hadn't expected to see.

Sharp beeps in a fast pace came in sequences, finally getting the attention of its owner, Colress holding up the scanner attached to his sleeve to discern it. It was going mad, picking up toxic reading emitting from within the back of that room and growing in proximity. It needed to be quarantined, immediately. The president wasn't in any condition to issue it either. She needed to be removed from it as soon as possible as well.

Approaching her with haste, he knelt beside the president, urging her to get up and vacate with him and that it was imperative. But it was clear that she could not hear or see him at all. So, against his better judgement, Colress swept the woman into his arms for the better of her safety. But she screamed barbarously as soon as he did, fighting against his hold on her, an expression so skewed by an unfathomable pain that he almost couldn't look at it. As soon as she was free, she curled herself into the lab coat that had fallen to the floor once he picked her up. The name-tag read: "Mohn".

"Take it with you, we must vacate, **now**!" he urged once more, knowing he could use force on her if need be. Unfortunately, it was what he had to do as she stayed unresponsive, sobbing into the fabric she held onto. Once again, gathering her just to get her out the door, she fought against him. Every step of the way, wanting to stay in that room, stay where he had disappeared.

It was a horrific memory.

After it played out briefly in mind, Colress shook his head slightly. The important bit, there was toxins from within that room after the incident. And he wondered if because of the prolonged exposure, perhaps it caused a change within Lusamine. It was plausible. And so, he decided to make that the top priority of his research, heading down to that closed off lab to begin the procedures.

Even after, the President still cornered him whenever it was possible, rinse and repeat, the same thing that always happened fell into a reoccurring theme. Colress, though he toned it down with his taunts, would not leave an encounter with her unscathed if he flexed on her asserted prowess. And he did. Because he was Colress and he couldn't help himself. Whether or not she was being affected by toxins or if this was a natural state of hers, it mattered not. She still signed his paychecks in her state of torment and misery  and he still got to be inside of her or have his face suffocated by her. Often that. Her moans were so sweet, despite her violent streak.

It could be like mutually using one another, except Lusamine was unaware of her being used, thinking she held all the cards. It was better that way, he had come to find. Allow her to believe she's winning, he gets off with her gorgeous being. Sometimes when she shoved him onto his back and wanting to take control, he found himself becoming more and more unattached to the notions of their affairs. Sad, being fucked by her, and all he could think about was how perhaps an option, back then during the initial event of tragedy, if he had only comforted her. Spoke soothing words she may have needed to hear, to coax her away from that lab, to be with a friend. Perhaps, even caressed her.

 

 

How pathetic.

 

 

When she howled his name, that's when he knew she got off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jsyk, I'd like to reiterate that this is not a romance story and should not be taken in such a way. What I'm attempting to incorporate into this story is abuse caused by conflicting personalities. I headcanon both characters with abusive personalities based on what I've personally taken from the games. Do Not Romanticize This. None of this is normal behavior.


End file.
